


'til I try I'll never know

by agent_orange



Series: That My Two Arms Could Give Me Wing [3]
Category: Generation Kill, Uglies Series - Scott Westerfeld
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Dystopia, Gen, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 14:44:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1748339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent_orange/pseuds/agent_orange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's so far down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'til I try I'll never know

**Author's Note:**

> Missing scene from the series.

John's heart is racing, air completely gone from his lungs after racing up twelve flights of stairs. Special Circumstances is hot on their trail, and escaping them is nearly impossible; in the likely event that they're caught, John estimates they'll get at least a month of isolation, plus a memory scrub and a note on their permanent records.

All for a fucking mural fucking Q-Tip wanted to put on the side of an abandoned building. Some weird anarchist shit with peace signs and international flags and skulls. John doesn't even know where he got the idea. Here, rebellion's silenced so quickly few ever hear of it.

The alarm blared, ear-shatteringly loud, and Q-Tip had dropped all the cans of paint, yanking John's hand as he pulled him towards the door. They'd sprinted up, John trying to formulate an escape plan as the decrepit stairs crumbled beneath their feet.

Hovercrafts are circling above their heads, Specials giving calm but firm orders over some radio system for John and Q-Tip to surrender.

They're trapped, it looks like. Q-Tip's eyes are wide with fear John's never seen before. He doesn't ask what they're going to do, even though he wants to.

Then he spots something towards the very edge of the roof—on the other side, but close enough that they can get to it.

"Come on!" he shouts. He's not sure why, but there's a rack of bungee jackets and a box of hoverboards. John hacks the sensors off two jackets, and Q-Tip slices the box open. They buckle in quickly, getting the height and weight settings as close to actual in the few seconds they have.

John's frozen on the ledge, staring at the turf. It's so far down, and if the jacket malfunctions...well, he doesn't want to think about the surgery he'll have to have. If he makes it.

Q-Tip pushes him then, and John's falling, tumbling head over heels towards the ground as adrenaline rushes through his veins. He bets Q-Tip, who's doing just fucking fine, has done this before.

The crash bracelets jerk against John's wrists, leaving angry red marks there as they pull him upright. It seems like he's slowing down as he gets closer to the ground, but his body still thinks he's in free-fall.

His landing isn't quite smooth, and Q-Tip yanks John to his feet, forcefully pressing the board into John's hands.

"Get the fuck on, motherfucker," he says, taking out his belly sensor and motioning for John to do the same.

The board is black and silver, about a third as tall as John is, with a knobbly surface. It looks sturdy, though John knows someone can fall off the best board if their balance is shit. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself, and pushes off.

"Where are we going?" he asks, wind whipping at his face. If they haven't lost the Specials by the time they reach the end of the grid, they're fucked even worse than before.

Q-Tip looks over at him. His do-rag's come off, and his hair is so pale against the dark night sky. "Rusty Ruins, B," he replies. "You're gonna fuckin' love it."


End file.
